


Just a Fox

by a_deep_breath



Category: Teen Wolf (TV), The Golden Compass (2007)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Daemons, Crossover, Daemons, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-06
Updated: 2015-03-06
Packaged: 2018-03-16 13:10:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3489440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_deep_breath/pseuds/a_deep_breath
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Keeta settled the night Stiles’ mother died. One minute she was wrapped around his ankle as a cotton mouth  snake, hissing as the nurse left the room, and then the fluffy fur of her tail brushed against his arm as she jumped into his lap. Stiles had looked at her through tear-blurred eyes and buried his fingers through her white fur. She’s been a fox ever since.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Fox

Keeta settled the night Stiles’ mother died. One minute she was wrapped around his ankle as a cotton mouth  snake, hissing as the nurse left the room, and then the fluffy fur of her tail brushed against his arm as she jumped into his lap. Stiles had looked at her through tear-blurred eyes and buried his fingers through her white fur. She’s been a fox ever since.

***

The kids at school pointed and gossiped. Eight was young to have a settled daemon. Stiles punched Jackson in the nose when he and Neptune called Stiles and Keeta crazy. His teacher made him visit the school counselor after that. Stiles pretended he didn’t care. Sometimes that was true.

At home, Stiles closed his eyes and thought about how Lydia’s daemon swung from the monkey bars as a bright orange orangutan, and then swooped around the whole playground as a raven as Lydia laughed. Keeta leaped from his dresser to the bed. Stiles felt her weight as the mattress moved beneath him. “I love you,” Keeta whispered.

Stiles wrapped his arms around her, fur red now that winter was over, and pulled her to his face. “I couldn’t live without you,” Stiles said back.

***

Four years later, Scott and Stiles were playing Call of Duty in Scott’s bedroom when Keeta knocked the controller from Stiles’ hand. “Hey! Watch it!” he shouted.

Mirabella, let loose a loud yip, and Scott’s head whipped around. Stiles turned, followed his friend’s gaze, and said, “You look beautiful.”

Scott was already at her side when she replied, “Of course I am.”

Keeta ran under Mirabelle’s belly then weaved between her legs. “A wolf,” she cried out in excitement.

“A protector,” Scott said, stars in his eyes.

_Perfect,_ Stiles thought.

***

Stiles grew. His body stretched out; his limbs became longer and his face narrower. Keeta’s snout took on darker shade of brown and all of her baby fat disappeared. By sophomore year, everyone in his class had a settled daemon.  Stiles panic attacks came and went, and the ache of his mother’s death only stung instead of burned. His dad drank less and Brie, the Sheriff’s ever steady Great Dane, seemed to have more energy.  Still, some nights Stiles had nightmares of Bronte’s missing fur patches and the way his eyes never opened those few nights before his mom faded away.  

The second day of school, a girl named Allison showed up with her German Shepard, Markus. Scott spent the whole first period staring at her while Mirabelle went and lay next to Markus on the floor. Stiles felt embarrassed for both of them.

“Scotty and Belle are looove-struck,” Keeta teased.  Mirabelle bared her teeth, but Keeta just showed hers right back.

***

People showed up dead. Throats torn out, guts yanked from the bodies and tossed aside. Blood stained the ground.

Stiles wished he didn’t steal his father’s case files. Luckily, curiosity overpowered the horror. Stiles went into the woods.

His night vision wasn’t what Keeta’s was, so he relied on her to lead the way.  “Something’s ahead,” she said quietly. Stiles slowed his pace. The gold in her eyes reflected off his phone. “Turn that off,” she demanded.  Stiles slipped it into the pocket of his hoodie.

“What do you see?” he asked.

“Shh.” He followed her around a tree and up a small hill. When the moonlight poked through the canopy of the trees, Stiles could see the remains of a burned down house.

Keeta hopped down the hill. Stiles took a step and fell. He heard Keeta’s cry, but couldn’t get air into his lungs to respond. When he stopped rolling, Keeta appeared by his side. “Are you okay?” She darted closer and licked his forehead.

“I’m fine,” he wheezed. He tried to push himself up, but his foot hit something solid.

“Stiles,” Keeta said, voice thick with distress.

Stiles followed her gaze to his foot, or more accurately, what lay beyond his foot.  The top half of a girl, eyes wide open, insides hanging where the rest of her torso and thighs should be, was touching his shoe.

“Oh god,” Stiles cried. He scrambled backwards, bumping into Keeta. When he was a few feet away, he turned and threw up the chicken he had for dinner.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” A voice called out.

Keeta growled, a low menacing sound Stiles had never heard from her before. There was a man, handsome and mid-thirties. His voice held humor, but his eyes were dark and soulless. Beside him was a wolf. She was nothing like Mirabelle. While Scott’s daemon was strong, she always had an air of friendliness to her. This wolf was sharp. She was all sinewy muscle and pointed edges. There was a keen intelligence to her that Stiles had never seen in a canine daemon. Her muzzle dripped blood.

“Cecelia, do you think this boy and his fox are lost in the woods?” The man asked.

Keeta stepped in front of Stiles. Her fur was twice its normal size. “We didn’t see anything,” Stiles blurted out.

The man’s eyes widened. Then he laughed. His daemon, Cecelia, shot him a sideways glance. “See what?” the man asked. He took a step towards them and pointed. “You mean the girl we just killed?”

Fear lanced through Stiles’ heart. He grabbed Keeta and stood. She wiggled hard, trying to get down. He knew that she wanted to protect him, but Stiles wasn’t going to let that wolf anywhere near her.

“Don’t worry,” the man said. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Stiles looked around for an escape, a weapon, anything. There was nothing but the forest floor, half of a dead girl, and an old, destroyed house. “Somehow I don’t believe you.” The words tumbled out before Stiles could stop him. Keeta nipped at his fingers.

A smile stretched the corners of the man’s mouth. “I don’t lie,” he said. Stiles said nothing. The man turned to his wolf. “Cece, do I lie?”

“Yes Peter, you do,” the daemon replied. The man, Peter, shrugged.

“Stiles, run,” Keeta shouted. She jumped from his arms and lunged for the wolf’s neck.  Startled, Stiles ran. He ran past the body, past the house, past countless trees and into the dark forest. It wasn’t until he stopped to suck in air that he realized the man was behind him.

He was tackled to the ground. His first thought wasn’t of the pain of the rocks piercing his skin or the weight of the murder above him. His first thought was of his own failure, _I left Keeta._ Tears caught on his eyelashes.  

“Your daemon has balls,” Peter said. Fury gave Stiles strength. He brought up his knee as hard as he could between the man’s legs.

“Fuck.” Peter rolled off him. Stiles clawed the ground for leverage and forced himself to his feet. Peter looked up at him and said, “I’m going to enjoy tearing you apart.”

_I’m going to die._ He was going to die alone. Without his father, without his best friend, without Keeta, his soul.

Suddenly, Peter gasped. “No,” he cried out. He clutched his chest and fell back into a tree. “That’s impossible.”

Stiles remembered his mother dying. He remembered the way the doctor gave her morphine through her IV. He remembered the heart monitor slow into nothing. This is nothing like that. Peter squeezed his eyes shut and went limp. Soft light broken into a million particles escaped his mouth and disappeared into the darkness.  Stiles couldn’t look away.

Bushes rusted to the left. Keeta appeared. Her ear was torn and a patch of fur was missing from her side. She was covered in blood. Stiles knelt down and picked her up. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. She laid her against his shoulder.

“Let’s go home,” she said. Her voice was worn.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I couldn’t live without you,” she said back.

 

 

 

 

 

    

 


End file.
